The smallest police payoff in the history of Ghana

I’ll fulfill my promise and relate this story, which begins in the demented imagination of whatever traffic planner laid out the approach roads around the new Accra Mall. To get to the mall from the university (i.e., from the north), I have to take the exit for Tema, cross over the highway from which I have just exited, then take another exit for Tema rather than go straight toward Tema, double back and drive directly past the mall entrance, proceed to a roundabout circle and return on the other side of the road, and enter. In effect I have proceeded south, then west, then east, then west, then east again to the entrance.

But I must not try to exit where I entered—that puts me directly on the toll road eastward to Tema. I have to wend my way through the parking lot to another exit, drive down to the same roundabout but take a different unmarked exit to reach the northbound road back to the university. By the fifth or sixth time I could recognize all the turns I needed to make, most of the time. Fortunately, if I take a wrong turn and need to cross several lanes of traffic or back up in the wrong direction to a different road, and if I can signal my intentions with a wave of my hand, Ghanaian drivers are generally very obliging.

The very first time I drove to the mall I managed to find my way in eventually, and then made the mistake of exiting the same way. No problem, I thought: I’m heading for Tema but can just turn around at the first intersection. But there are no intersections. I was immediately on the toll road toward Tema, and there were no roundabouts or exits for about 8 km til I reached the toll booth.

I paid my toll—all of 50 pesewas ($0.35) and explained to the attendant that I was only trying to return to Legon from Shoprite. “Just ask the police officer behind the booth and he will open the gate for you,” she advised. I did just as she suggested, but the officer on duty was not quite ready to cooperate.

“I am sorry, sir, but only authorized police vehicles are permitted to pass here. You are in an ordinary saloon car, so I cannot permit you to pass.”

I explained my predicament, but he would not relent. “You must proceed to Tema and you can reverse your direction there.” That would be about 20 km of pointless driving. Was it not possible to make an exception?

“I am sorry, sir, but I cannot make an exception. But it is the weekend. Perhaps you have brought me something?”

I had in my hand the small coins that I had pulled from my pocket and had not needed for the toll—a grand total of 21 pesewas, or $0.15. I held my hand open.

“That is only 21 pesewas!” he told me, unnecessarily. Yes, I said, I know, I am sorry, but I have spent all my money at Shoprite already. So I will have to drive on to Tema.

“Oh, no, sir, that will not be necessary. Let me have your small small money. Please pass here, sir, and have a good day.”

I’ve told this story to several Ghanaian friends, and all agree that never in the history of modern Ghana has a policeman done a traveler a favor—let alone a European traveler—for so small an incentive. I’m glad to be able to contribute this small chapter to contemporary life in Ghana.